Embracing Chaos; Unfolding the Method in the Madness

If there’s one thing I’ve learned as an artist, it’s that the mess is part of the process. As a multimedia artist, my creative process has always been a blend of turbulence and discovery. Whether experimenting with metal work, plaster, or even diving into digital mediums, I’ve dabbled in a lot. Yet, despite my explorative tendencies, I’ve always found myself drawn to charcoal. Its raw, untamed quality feels like a reflection of my own artistic process—sporadic, unpredictable, and sometimes frustratingly chaotic. But in that chaos, I’ve learned to find calm.

In the early stages of my journey, I often struggled with this lack of structure. Art school emphasized following a precise process. As an art student, I often butted heads with instructors who emphasized the importance of structure. "Develop your ideas in the sketchbook before bringing them to the canvas," they’d say. Their advice was solid, rooted in traditional techniques, and as a novice I respected that. However, while I could see the value in their advice, I just couldn't follow along; it didn't compute in my brain. I couldn't envision a masterpiece on a tiny 8x10 sketchbook, I need to work on the real deal! My process was less about planning and more about feeling—letting the work unfold as I created it. My tendency to skip formal planning led to mixed results—some days I’d show up with a well-refined still life, other days with a half-finished concept. Meanwhile, my peers were able to see a logical progression in their portfolios, while mine felt erratic. It was disheartening at times. What is wrong with me? Was I unequipped to create consistently good work? I started to feel deep insecurity, and I took steps back and started to reevaluate what my art meant to me. But there was something within that disarray that kept pulling me back—it felt genuine, raw, and, in a strange way, liberating.

Over time, I realized the issue wasn’t with my chaotic process itself—it was my hesitation to embrace it completely. I’d let self-doubt creep in, worrying about whether my work measured up to standards, whether my process was ‘right.’ But there is no one-size-fits-all approach to art. What matters most is action—taking the steps, messy or not, to create. Not every piece has to be a masterpiece, and that’s okay. Accepting this was my first large step into rediscovering myself as an artist. (continued)

'Seeing Red' by Waad Elnour

Of course, embracing chaos doesn’t mean abandoning quality or consistency. Sometimes, it’s about the act of creating itself—about seeing what your beautiful mind conjures up. The work that feels incomplete or disjointed in the moment can become part of a larger body of work that makes sense later on. The key is not to be paralyzed nor overwhelmed by the need for perfection but to keep moving forward, even if that means embracing a bit of mess along the way. Art is a journey, one full of missteps, detours, and surprises. My style has evolved so much over the years, not just through technique, but by learning to trust myself.

I’ve found that within the unpredictability of life, there is solace—it's where new ideas are born. We often try to make order out of the chaos, to force life into neat, manageable boxes. But sometimes the most beautiful, eccentric, and honest things come out of letting go, allowing the mess to unfold and reveal its hidden structure; it's where we find room for wonder.

For me, charcoal became a medium through which I could explore this philosophy more deeply. Its unpredictable marks and smudges are like thoughts and ideas moving around in my mind, waiting to settle into something tangible. It doesn’t ask for precision; it invites experimentation. In the same way, I’ve come to see my artistic process as less about strict adherence to a plan and more about trusting my instincts. My best work often emerges when I allow myself to take risks, to lean into mistakes, and to see where the process leads.

So, how do you embrace chaos in your art? Well, there isn’t a straightforward answer, and that’s the beauty of it. It’s about finding your own rhythm in the madness, letting intuition lead when logic falters. And maybe, like me, you’ll discover that chaos is not the enemy—it’s where the magic happens. The 'method behind the madness' is simply to let the process unfold, trust in it, and allow yourself to create without judgment. Art, like life, thrives in the spaces between order and disorder. It’s up to us to explore that space and see where it takes us.

If all of this sounds familiar—like the musings of every other Avante Garde artist out there—look, I get it, feel free to roll your eyes. but this was a key realization for me that helped relieve me from the shackles of perfectionism and comparison (although they are still my vices). For any young artists out there who feel the same, know this: there is nothing wrong with the way you create. Your beautifully chaotic mind is valuable and necessary. It’s a reflection of the turbulent, infinite, and beautiful universe we live in—a reminder that creativity, like life, isn’t meant to fit into neat, orderly boxes. It is turbulent, infinite and is the beautiful totality of existence, and your mind is a reflection of that. It is the It’s about finding your own way in a world that often demands order and structure, about making peace with the fact that creativity doesn’t always come in neat, tidy packages. The universe is vast and unpredictable, and so is art. We can’t always control the outcome, but we can embrace the process, finding beauty in the chaos as it unfolds.

Finding your path as an artist means making peace with the unknown. So let yourself wander in that space, make a mess, take risks, and let the process unfold. You might just find that the magic is waiting there, in the places you'd least expect.